“So, here’s what I’m trying to figure out, Borealis.”
Zoe keeps her head down, hiding the smile that had grown involuntarily on her face the second Kevin slid in across from her at the table.
Careful, Zo, she thinks as forcefully as she can. A crush is really the last thing you need to be dealing with right now. Especially on a guy who is probably only talking to you because you’re the only person here close to his age.
When she looks up, she hopes that her smile is just friendly, not giddy. “And what might that be, KevLar?” she asks, stressing his ridiculous nickname. He grins at her, and her heart does a couple flips before she scolds it firmly.
“You’ve been coming here for a week now. And every time you show up, you drop off Mini-me at a room and then come here, to the Abyss of Perpetual Holding, where you stay for three hours without seeing anyone, and then you leave. I notice because it is atypical HCC behavior.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere?”
“Oh, no,” he assures her with a smile. “That would be prying, which I would never do. I am only admitting to wondering. And that, in wondering, I have come up with some theories.”
“Oh, really?” she says with a laugh. “Now these I want to hear.”
“Well, since you asked.” He resettles himself in the chair and stretches his arms out to either side like a conductor about to start an orchestra. “Theory number one – time traveler.” Zoe struggles to keep a straight face at that, and Kevin shoots her a knowing look, eyes twinkling. “I figure Mini-me is actually that – a miniature you, and you’ve come back in time to correct a great wrong.”
“Good to know time travel will be invented in just a few short years,” she replies.
“Oh, you’re older than you look. Your youthful appearance is a gift from the semi-benevolent robot overlord I assume we’re all beholden to.”
“Of course.”
“Theory number two!” Kevin exclaims then, throwing his hands wide again. “Mini-me is a princess or child empress or the daughter of some powerful person who hired you specifically for your resemblance to her, and presumably your skills with nunchucks.”
“Ninja stars, but go on.”
Kevin grins before continuing. “You’re posing as her sister to decrease suspicion and keep her safe. And theory number three . . .” He draws the pause out until Zoe raises her eyebrows in expectation. He shrugs and his voice goes back to normal. “. . .you are just transportation, not connected to whoever Mini-me visits.”
“Mmm,” Zoe says with a nod. “You got me. It’s the first one, the time travel one. All hail the All Powerful Circuit-Tree.”
Kevin cracks up. “All Powerful Circuit-Tree. You come up with that on the spot? Impressive, Borealis.” Zoe laughs, then shrugs.
“No, she’s my sister. Well, half-sister. I bring her to visit her mother.” That comment wins a strange look from Kevin.
“Most people would use the term stepmother, I think.”
“Most people,” Zoe agrees with a nod.
Kevin’s eyes narrow further, but then he spreads his hands in front of him and says, “Okay, not gonna pry. Still curious, but not gonna pry.”
“It’s . . . complicated,” she says, hating falling back on such a non-explanation even as she uses it. But it is complicated. It took more than a page to explain things to Alex, and that was before Lissa and Michelle and all the really complicated stuff got added in.
But Kevin backs off right away, not that he was ever actually prying. “Say no more,” he says with a nod. “If there’s one thing I get, it’s complicated family back story.”
That piques her curiosity, bringing back the question she’s had for a week now, but is way too considerate to actually voice. Who is this guy, who comes every day to visit his grandfather and does his level best to avoid the only other person who comes to visit his grandfather? “Complicated family back story” gives her a clue, but it tears her even further between wanting to respect his privacy and wanting to know his story.
So she just says, “Gotta love complicated family back story, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, but he catches her eye and quirks an eyebrow, and she reads his unspoken question with ease. To answer, she gives the smallest shrug, and then tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach when he lets a slow-growing smile take over his face. She watches him come to a decision, and that is a fascinating process. “I bet my one sentence summary is weirder than yours,” he says then, and Zoe laughs.
“Doubtful. I don’t think I can summarize mine in one sentence.”
“Hmmm,” he says, furrowing his brow in concentration. “Me neither, now that I’m thinking of it. I bet my three sentence summary is weirder than yours.”
She rips a clean sheet out of her notebook and hands half to him. “You’re on,” she challenges with a glint in her eye.
She does her best to think about how to summarize her family into three sentences, but she gets distracted watching him. He’s bent over the paper, his shaggy brown hair falling forward as he writes with a speed that proves he’s been thinking about this for a while. When he pauses to think, his focus remains on the page, his long graceful fingers tapping the pen against his lips. His focus is incredible, and she can’t help but start a daydream about what it might be like to have that focus fully fixated on her.
“My summary is absolutely going to beat yours if keep staring at me instead of writing, Borealis,” he drawls then, not looking up from the page, and Zoe feels her cheeks turning bright red. She drops her head to her own paper, hoping her hair will help hide her blush.
“Okay,” he says a few moments later. Zoe rereads her sentences one last time before handing the page over. She’s pretty confident she’ll win this challenge. Then she reads Kevin’s summary.
My grandparents raised me from the age of three, after my mother killed my abusive alcoholic father because she realized once he started hitting me that she couldn’t change him. Gran died four years ago, Gramps was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s two years ago, and I’ve been pretty much his sole caretaker ever since. Gramps had a stroke in November that left him comatose and me living with my mother’s sister who hates me and everything I stand for.
She looks up at him, shocked. “Shit, Kev,” she says, for lack of anything more coherent. He aims a tight smile at the tabletop, so different from his usual easy grin.
“Told you.” And then, while she’s still trying to come up with something, anything to say, he taps her scrap of paper and says, “Although, I gotta say, your dad is a special brand of douchebag.”
“You’re one to talk.” He smiles at that, almost, and shakes his head.
“No, if you reread that, you’ll see that my dad was actually a fairly average brand of douchebag.”
“What happened?” She asks the question softly, gently, trying to make it clear that he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to.
“He had no interest in a kid,” he says after a long moment. “So when Mom had me, he made it clear that she was responsible for keeping me out of the way. If she failed . . .” He doesn’t finish the thought, but he doesn’t need to. Zoe can fill in the blanks for herself. “When I was about three,” he continues, “she wasn’t there or didn’t get there in time or something, and he hit me. That opened her eyes. She knew she had to get out, but she was . . . twenty-two, I think? And he’d had his claws in her for four years. I guess killing him was the only out she could think of. She emptied a shotgun into his head.”
He says it all so matter-of-fact, which is heartbreaking on some level. She’s horrified by the story, but honored that he’s sharing it with her. So she asks, “Where is she now? Your mom? A good lawyer could have gotten her off on self-defense.”
He gives a breath of laughter at that. “A shitty lawyer could have gotten her off on self-defense. She didn’t want it. Plead guilty. Killed herself in prison a year later.”
“Kevin . . .” She doesn’t know what to say, but he heads her off with a single hand.
“You’re trying to figure out what to say,” he says with a half-smile. “Everyone does. But honestly, don’t worry about it. It did happen to me, but it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t remember them. Gran and Gramps are the only parents I’ve ever known. My origin story may be sad enough to make Batman cry, but it’s what’s happening now that really gets to me, you know?” For the first time, Zoe sees real emotion playing out on Kevin’s face — pain, uncertainty, heartache. But a heartbeat later, he’s taking a deep breath and forcing a smile.
“After Gran died, I thought it was just the grief, so I didn’t worry too much that he had trouble remembering things. But it kept getting worse, not better. I made him get diagnosed. He wouldn’t let me tell anyone. He was afraid they’d take me away from him. They probably would have. Probably should have, to be honest, but we learned to hide it. Set up his pension checks on direct deposit, bills are all on auto-pay. I know his PIN, have access to all the accounts. I buy the groceries, cook meals, make sure he bathes and takes his medicine. I skip school to get him to his doctor’s appointments, do everything I can to try and keep his mind sharp.”
All of a sudden, Kevin freezes, and when he speaks again, he just about breaks her heart. “Or I did,” he says softly. “Before all of this.” He closes his eyes for a long moment and swallows hard, and Zoe is sure he’s fighting back tears. She reaches for his hand across the table, but before she can take it, he sits back abruptly, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. “Ah, I am unloading my shit on you, and I’m going to stop doing that. Sorry.”
“Hey,” Zoe says softly, dipping her head so he has to meet her eyes. “Everyone needs someone to unload their shit on,” she says once she has his attention. “I don’t mind being your person, okay?”
“You seem to have shit enough of your own, Borealis,” he says then, not quite reaching the levity she thinks he was aiming for.
“Yeah, but I have people who get very put out with me when I don’t use them for support, so I’ve learned how important having those people is.” That wins a smile and an exhale that might have been a laugh in another circumstance. He keeps his focus on the table for another moment, then looks up at her, all teasing gone.
“Thank you,” he says, and her heart does another little flip. “Okay,” he announces after another second, and it’s like he’s flipped the switch back to carefree, but she thinks she knows how to see through the facade now. “Your turn. I want your story, because it sounds like a doozy.” With a smile, she obliges him.
Their conversation lasts for two hours until she realizes with a jolt that it’s 6:30 and time for her to go. “Well,” she says, packing up her bag, “I have to go. The benevolent robot overlords. You understand.” He laughs. She flashes him a grin and shoulders her bag. “See you in a couple days,” she says and starts to walk away when he calls her back.
“Zoe?”
“Yeah?” she says, turning to find him standing by the table, looking almost nervous.
“Seriously. Thanks for today.”
“Literally any time, Kevin.” Then she grabs the half sheet of paper with her summary on it, and scribbles her phone number and twitter handle. “In case you ever need to talk outside of Tuesdays and Thursdays. Okay?”
He nods, then says, “I’m gonna hug you now.”
“Sure thing,” she says, hoping she sounds casual, hoping that her quickened heartbeat doesn’t read through the embrace. If he notices anything, he doesn’t mention it.
She maintains her composure until she’s outside, away from any prying eyes. Then she takes a moment to steady herself against the wall. “Keep it together, Zoe,” she mutters. “Now is not the time to go weak at the knees over a guy. Got it? Got it.”
The pep talk works, more or less, but she can’t quite keep the giddy grin off her face as she makes her way to her car.